


Butter Nut

by Shirimikaze



Category: Produce 101 (TV), Wanna One (Band)
Genre: Christmas, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, M/M, Winter, because the amount of cheese in this is making switzerland quiver in a ditch, i may be a whole maknae line stan but i need my hyung line appreciation moments, not advisable for lactose intolerant readers, they're idiots and so am i
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-01
Updated: 2018-01-01
Packaged: 2019-02-26 12:16:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13235559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shirimikaze/pseuds/Shirimikaze
Summary: Jihoon unabashedly loves oversized winter-themed sweaters. He also unconditionally loves Kang Daniel, alongside all his quirks and oddities, enough to make the world cater to his whims.





	Butter Nut

**Author's Note:**

  * For [slackeuse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/slackeuse/gifts).



> This is my entry for the [Starry Nights winkniel fic fest](https://twitter.com/nwstarrynights) hosted by the lovely [slackeuse](https://twitter.com/slackeuse)! Make sure to check out the other entries as well when they do get posted, all the participants are simply muffins.

Quiet mornings may give the impression of monotony, yet they’re anything but. There are a lot of factors working in unison to keep up that sense of calm. The faint smell of citrus laundry detergent wafting from multi-coloured bed sheets, because you could never become too old for multi-coloured bed sheets. The knots of limbs beneath the sheets in question, shifting every so slightly to the whim of some dream. The patter of soft feline paws, sometimes bold atop wooden floorboards, sometimes muffled by the mattress of the master bed they’re trying to find rest on. The quietest burglar in the world – the cascade of morning sun rays – attempting to stick to its routine of sneaking into every available room through layers of glass and floral print curtains.

 

 

_December 21, 7:52AM_

 

Due to some odd quirk in human perception, theoretical knowledge of the brilliance of early mornings didn’t make them easier to trudge through. A lot of relationships consisted of an early bird and a night owl who complete each other’s peculiarities, but in Jihoon and Daniel’s case, they were both simply incarnations of rocks. It was often around the same point of daybreak that lazy stretches and grumpy groans began rustling the bed sheets. Trying to guess who would be the first to leave the mattress’ sweet embrace was a harmless gamble of fate, yet often a pointless one, since the odds on most occasions were in Jihoon’s favour.

 

That day as well he was the one to break the temptations of motionlessness on a winter morning. Not without an adequate amount of groans and expletives as accompaniment, of course. His dissent with society’s expectations of early rousings needed to be voiced just right. Simply detaching himself from the mattress wasn’t enough, so before letting his feet pat along the floor in search of his slippers, Jihoon was obliged to shove Daniel, who was quietly fulfilling his fate as a human fossil, until consciousness befell him. Daily routines awaited both of them.

 

On the topic of routines, one of the many lights on the bumpy street of Jihoon’s life was his penchant for festive sweaters. Maybe “questionable” would be one of the apt descriptions that didn’t venture into the plethora of jabs his friends had thrown at his fashion choices throughout the years. His first task after rolling out of bed (much like how a pen would fall off a cluttered desk – accompanied by a lone dull thud against wooden floorboards, left to dissolve unheeded in the silence) was to slowly crack open the closet he shared with Daniel and haphazardly rummage through a pile of wool and yarn.

 

As the less indecisive link in this relationship, he was quick to pull out his choice for the day from the mess. A bright red sweater covered in thin yellow stripes found itself sliding down goosebump-adorned skin to ward away the morning chills. The colour coordination wasn’t very… coordinated, if at all, but the size of the garment managed to make Jihoon’s already small frame seem even cuter, so complaints about the overall appearance of the sweater were left to a minimum.

 

Purple threads twisted and wove themselves around the front to shape two reindeer. Their intended purpose was to allude to some holiday spirit, but if you asked Daniel, the way the coarse curves of yarn made the animals seem cross-eyed and cross-legged was hilarious. Daniel was no master in the art of reindeer anatomy, but he was almost ready to argue that antlers probably weren’t meant to jut out so far to the side either. Poor things. Capitalism had truly changed Santa’s employee treatment ethic.

 

The best part of this tidbit – or worst, depending on whose opinion you sought – was that Jihoon’s questionable sweater collection wasn’t simply coveted. It was also extensive. If one were to clear their calculations of any exaggerations, the exact amount would probably reach two solid dozens, each piece in a different colour, some simply differing in shade. The amount of verbal battles Daniel had led to warrant himself some much appreciated and cherished closet space had evolved to an entire war.

 

He had, sadly, also scored an own goal by falling in love with the demon of persuasion. He had become acquainted with Jihoon’s silver tongue in more ways than one, most of those ways having secured their spot as pleasant memories, but it was often also used to rebut any and all arguments aiming to decrease or, God forbid, remove the treasured wool mountains from their shared closet. The prospect of a bunch of impulsive on-sale thrift shop purchases outliving Kang Daniel was very viable.

 

But that was okay. Daniel had learned to appreciate the small tidbits that tinged their domestic life in roses and endearment. The juxtaposition between the wonky patterns and the glares Jihoon sporadically aimed at his boyfriend’s tragic puns throughout the days was the pinnacle of quality entertainment. The way the long sleeves often managed to entirely cover Jihoon’s small hands when he reached to stifle his yawns was a type of softness Daniel wasn’t sure he could live without.

 

The candid contemplations unfurling in Daniel’s mind as he lay in bed, silently observing his lover getting dressed and ready to seize the day, were steadily leading to the conclusion that his will was utterly powerless when faced with a pile of ugly winter-themed sweaters.

  


_December 21, 8:26AM_

 

Love smelled like the espresso swirling inside scalding hot coffee pots and chipped porcelain mugs. Jihoon sat perched on the cool tile of the countertop, his gaze roaming the landscape beyond their small kitchen window while he was sipping on his daily caffeine fix. Oodles of snowflakes were dancing for him. His eyes got blissfully lost in the gentle white current outside. As his fingertips traced the subtle cracks along the rim of his mug, he was reminded of obscure neighbourhood home decor stores, heated bargains, and mismatched tea sets strewn together with glee.

 

Love sounded like the incredibly off-key attempts at high notes coming from Daniel during his renditions of whatever trashy pop tune was blasting from the small radio sitting on the kitchen windowsill. Upon questioning, Daniel would reply that he is not too fond of mainstream pop music. Whether his dislike stopped him from memorising the lyrics of every song on the hits station’s regular rotation was another matter entirely. Sometimes Jihoon joined in for a disastrous harmony when a familiar song came up. The two burst into collective laughing fits every time some notes turned into nothing short of screeches.

 

Love apparently also looked like Daniel diligently attempting to replicate tricks he saw on episodes of Master Chef and promptly realizing his cooking was more of a hazard than a skill. A pancake or two met their demise on the floor; a more rebellious one managed to even scrape the ceiling. Jihoon applauded the feat accordingly.

 

Domestic life could get a bit turbulent when neither you, nor your significant other can cook anything more complex than instant ramen. Domestic life could get more than just a bit turbulent when your significant other, who goes by the name Kang Daniel, does not grasp the concept of giving up. His browser history was a colorful mess of breakfast recipes and tutorials on how to make a pan not stick.

 

But that was okay. Jihoon had the nearest restaurants on speed dial. The smoke detector in the kitchen was his trustworthy sidekick for when he couldn’t personally babysit Daniel’s stove endeavours. It also didn’t hurt that every now and then, Daniel made sure to lean towards the counter to plant a messy kiss on Jihoon’s cheek. Coupled with some previous day’s microwaved leftovers, breakfast would commence just as the pleasant usual.

 

Amidst all this subdued chaos, a ball of fur and affection was waddling along the kitchen floor. Butter Nut simply had to be on top of every event and observe everything, hence his persistence in rubbing against socked feet and bare calves. Jihoon, too lazy to hop off the counter, found it a bit challenging to bend forward enough to reach the kitten without gracelessly toppling over, but Butter Nut made sure to stretch his tiny head out as much as he could, so everything worked out smoothly. Daniel tried his best to pamper their cat with chin scratches whenever his hands weren’t occupied; he was used to catering to the whims of two needy gentlemen in this household, after all.

  


_December 21, 8:39AM_

 

No words were floating in the air, yet it wasn’t exactly silent. The clattering of tableware was accompanied by satisfied munching. Contented purrs came from one of the chairs on which Butter Nut had decided to curl in on himself like a pretzel. The radio delivered the monotonous voice of a reporter on a tangent about recent events.

 

Jihoon and Daniel always sat on opposite sides of the table with the single sappy intent of facing each other. That arrangement often spiraled into one laughing at the other for some odd eating habit or perhaps the ridiculous amount of sauce splatters on their face, which in turn made the table a makeshift battle ground with balled up napkins flying in every direction.

 

It was right after one such childish war, just as the giggles had quieted down, that the radio reporter’s dull speech had become a bit more than customary background noise.

 

_“... Due to unexpectedly heavy snowfall, some major highways in the Gyeongsangdo province have been closed off for maintenance. According to forecasts, the weather is expected to gradually become harsher over the next few days. We advise reconsidering trips-”_

 

The way Daniel’s expression froze for a few timeless moments gave away the attention he dedicated to the report. The thoughts swirling behind his scrunched eyebrows were almost palpable. “Oh, they can’t be serious right now.”

 

“Wait, I’ll check.” Jihoon patted around the pockets of his sweatpants until he dug out his phone. It wasn’t difficult to find articles on the topic; seemed that they weren’t the first to grasp at confirmation, and neither would they be the last. After a short moment of Jihoon’s eyes flitting back and forth to read, he looked up with a sigh. “Yep, the road to Busan will be closed for the next few days.”

 

Jihoon knew what would ensue. He had become accustomed to the various ways in which emotions played with the lines and curves of Daniel’s face, so he took the pout that followed his words in stride. He calmly reached out to entwine his fingers with Daniel’s in silent comfort.

  


_December 22, 09:15AM_

 

Dress shirt creases and cologne bottles, rushed movements and mental checklists. Jihoon dashed towards the mirror on the closet door to make sure his appearance was acceptable enough to evade an ass whooping in the workplace. Life was indeed too short to find matching socks, but he wasn’t about to let his superiors know or see that. One wink at his reflection later, he clambered out of the bedroom, prepared to face life.

 

Jihoon’s last stop before the front door was the living room couch. Daniel was stretched over a pile of decorative cushions in some ridiculous pose with a manga volume in hand. Interrupting the intense concentration he devoted to whatever scene he was reading at the moment, Jihoon bent down to place a loud smooch on his forehead.

 

“You’re heading out earlier than usual today,” Daniel noted, his head shifting only enough to be able to follow Jihoon out with a gaze.

 

Jihoon disappeared beyond the threshold leading to the hall. Only the sound of him wrestling his shoes into cooperation reached the living room. “I have an errand to deal with before going to work. I may come home a bit later than usual too. Nothing too serious, though, don’t worry.”

 

“Alright, then,” came Daniel’s reply. “Have a nice day at work!” Jihoon couldn’t see him, but he could simply hear the smile that was inevitably twisting at his boyfriend’s lips. “Love you.”

 

“Love you too." Jihoon was just not strong enough to escape a fond smile blooming on his own lips. “Have a nice day bullying Butter Nut into cuddling with you.”

 

The front door clicked shut. A few jingles of his house keys later, Jihoon hopped down the stairs of their apartment building, taking two at a time, mapping out strategies in his mind. He snuck his phone out of his pocket to placate his own antsiness. The lit lockscreen boasted various notifications that he probably should had tended to, but only a single line caught Jihoon’s eyes – 22nd of December.

 

Operation _Peachy_ – commence.

  


_December 22, 10:01AM_

 

After entering the office, the first thing to catch Jihoon’s eye was a desk. It wasn’t the mess of paperwork and pastel stationery sprawled on it that demanded his attention, rather what stood behind it – a swivel chair facing the opposite direction. As Jihoon’s presence in the room became clear, the chair began slowly turning to him.

 

“I’ve been expecting you, Mr. Park.”

 

There sat Yoon Jisung, in all his melodramatic glory, slowly caressing a cat lying in his lap. While it was to be expected that he donned a cliche stoic expression to go with his statement, the impressive part was that he also had a monocle on.

 

Jihoon’s eyes did scrunch in scepticism, but he chose to embrace that as one of the milder welcomes he could had received. “I’m not even going to ask.”

 

“Good,” Jisung replied with a nod. The monocle almost fell then and there, but he managed to salvage its balance without losing that mask of mock-seriousness plastered on his face. “A man with purpose shouldn’t need to explain himself.” Any and all tension, albeit faux, that had been built up instantly shattered when Jisung began cooing, “Isn’t that right, Bagel, sweetie?” He faced the cat in his lap, all sunshine and smiles, and the earlier languid caresses turned into enthusiastic belly scratches.

 

Jihoon blankly opened and closed his mouth a couple of times while his mind was searching. Searching both for appropriate words and for a good reason why Jisung was his first option for help.

 

Thankfully, Jisung didn’t take long before giving him answers to both of those musings. He took the damned monocle off and placed it alongside the clutter on his desk before facing Jihoon and tentatively speaking up. “Okay, adult stuff time now, you wanted to talk. Is anything the matter?” There it was, the concerned tone. The one that sounded like home.

 

“To put it eloquently, some plans just went to shit.” Jihoon approached Jisung’s work desk without any of the customary unease associated with corporate settings. “Daniel and I were supposed to spend Christmas in Busan with his family.” He pulled the single chair standing in front of the desk and nonchalantly plopped on it, an arm slung over the backrest. “He was super excited over the idea of introducing me to his parents and, despite the fact that I would’ve most likely straight up died from nervousness in that situation, I guess I was anticipating it too.”

 

Jihoon pointed a finger at the large window behind Jisung’s back. Outside, amidst grey buildings and the rushed steps of people atop grey pavements, was a languid cascade of thick snowflakes. They calmed down when sunlight broke through the clouds, but the snowfall certainly hadn’t stopped in a while. “Unless a portal to Hell suddenly opens up on the highway and melts all the ice, I don’t think we’re gonna get far. So, long story short, Daniel has been sulking in a blanket burrito at home ever since the news broke out and you know how powerful his pouts can get.”

 

“So what's the battle plan?” Jisung leaned closer, propping his elbows on the desk. Bagel jumped off his owner’s lap in favour of sitting as close to the heater as he could manage. “I mean, we both know a spawn of Hell, Jaehwan could probably open up that portal you mentioned. But I assume you want something a bit more realistic and a bit less apocalyptic.”

 

“We need people,” Jihoon said, copying Jisung’s anime villain pose, chin resting on his hands. “We need discrete, trustworthy, and loyal people.” Determination shimmered in his eyes. “And yes, we’ll need Jaehwan too.”

 

Jisung, the splitting image of confidence, rummaged through his pocket to take his phone out. “Say no more.”

  


_December 24, 09:40PM_

 

Daniel was watching the floors come and go through the tiny glass window on the elevator door. “Thanks again for dragging me out of home.”

 

“Don’t sweat it,” Seongwu clapped a hand over Daniel’s shoulder with a toothy smile, “nagging people to go out for drinks with me is my most honed talent.”

 

The elevator door opened with a creak sharpened by years of work and rust. The apartment was a few turns of Daniel’s key away from welcoming the two of them with a heater and the distinct aura of domesticity. Daniel, who couldn’t really be bothered to untie his shoelaces, snuck his feet out of his boots with the intent of reaching the couch and diving into it as soon as possible.

 

The lack of light coming from the living room led Daniel to the conclusion that Jihoon hadn’t arrived home from work yet. Thoughts of ordering slightly fancier food than usual, picking a cheesy movie, and piling a bunch of soft blankets on the couch dashed through his mind.

 

He wasn’t left to dwell in his thoughts for long, though, as the moment he stepped into the living room, the lightbulbs came to life and a burst of confetti shot itself at him. In the middle of the living room, with Butter Nut clutched in his arms, stood Park Jihoon.

 

Daniel’s mind was still trying to catch up to the entirety of what was transpiring in front of him, but he managed to grasp the key points quickly enough.

 

First, Jihoon was not alone – their entire friend group was scattered in their living room. Jisung stood next to Jihoon, holding Bagel up like a baby. Sungwoon was tactically placed near the door with empty confetti crackers in hand. Minhyun was settled on the couch, doing jazz hands at an assortment of board games on the coffee table, and Jaehwan was sat next to him, shaking his head left and right like a moron to make the bells on his headband jingle.

 

Daniel heard a snort behind his back. He turned around to face Seongwu, who was leaning on the living room door frame with an ear to ear grin. It was at that moment that Daniel realised that he had been, plain and simple, bamboozled. He wasn’t sure whether his expression managed to depict the childish pang of betrayal he felt in its full capacity, so he mouthed an incredulous “you _knew_ " just to be certain his point got across.

 

Second, Daniel wasn’t exactly sure whether to laugh or to throw everyone out of his apartment. Jihoon was donned in one of his forsaken Christmas-themed sweaters; the thing was a disturbing shade of brown with a botched mistletoe print sewn on the front. But that was not the root of concern. Everyone else, sans Seongwu and Jaehwan, were wearing similar questionable garments as well. Seongwu’s alibi was that Daniel would have refused to be seen outside with him if he had worn something like that. Jaehwan was another story. Jaehwan was simply wearing an entire Santa suit instead. The only ones Daniel forgave and loved were Butter Nut and Bagel, who had tiny Christmas hats on and were honestly the purest things in the world.

 

The fact that none of the sweaters worn by the others seemed familiar to Daniel made him realise the guys had most likely bought the clothes for the sake of this single occasion. Judgement aside, he was truly touched.

 

Third, and definitely the point to ingrain itself the deepest into Daniel’s mind, was how he fell for Jihoon all over again. A sparkly reindeer antler headband pushed his bangs back. A wide, genuine smile adorned his lips. Tiny galaxies were shimmering in his eyes. “Welcome home,” Jihoon said, and his words were as warm as the stars burning bright in his irises.

 

Home. Mental images of relatives, both close and distant, appeared in Daniel’s mind. He wondered if, at that exact moment, his family in Busan were all gathered around a full table, laughing over old memories and creating new ones. He had tried not to sulk about being stuck in Seoul, but his blanket burrito of gloom had likely already become an inside joke.

 

But that was okay. _Home is where the heart is_ , the old saying boasted. Daniel had unconditionally given his heart to Park Jihoon quite a long time ago _._

  


_December 24, 10:05PM_

 

A quick glance around the apartment rendered Daniel floored. Christmas lights snuck themselves around the edges of windows and door frames. Ornaments of all kinds – adorable, tacky, expensive-looking – were hanging from every surface possible. Some even seemed hand-made. The sheer number of sparkly garlands everywhere was almost as blinding as the candles scattered around the rooms.

 

Yet nothing could compare to the shock experienced upon entering the kitchen. Daniel had never seen his own kitchen table full of so many different home-cooked meals, unless he counted that one nightmare of his in which his mother had suddenly appeared in Seoul to scold him for his utter inability to cook or function as an adult in general. “Oh my God, you guys cooked a turkey.”

 

“You’re welcome, son,” Minhyun added while deftly distributing tableware.

 

Everyone was busy roaming around the kitchen, adding last-minute touches to the table, digging out almost everything edible from the apartment. Seongwu was leaning on the countertop, calmly observing the flurry while demolishing some tub of dairy. “This whipped cream tastes horrible,” he noted between munches.

 

Jisung made sure to snatch the tub out of his hands before ushering everyone to finally sit around the table. “That’s cottage cheese, you dunce.”

 

As per tradition, Daniel and Jihoon sat on opposite sides of the table. Sure, the presence of more plates and people than normal put a halt to the usual napkin wars. The adoring gazes, however, were all the same.

  


_December 24, 11:58PM_

 

“Does anyone want cocoa scones?” Sungwoon waved a bag of pastries in the general direction of the clutter of people around the couch. “My sister made these.”

 

“I love you but if you do not want me to puke in your face, please don’t put any more food within a one meter radius of me,” Jisung issued a warning, tone anguished. His belt had been loosened since somewhere after the third plate of dinner.

 

Daniel channeled his inner kindergartener by making grabby hands at Sungwoon. “I want!” he chimed with more excitement than a normal person should had been able to exude at that point in the night. Sungwoon made sure to ruffle his hair before giving him a scone and dropping to the floor next to Jaehwan with the grace of a brick.

 

After an ungodly amount of food and several bottles of heated wine, everyone was huddled around the couch in one way or another. Jisung and Minhyun were each leaning on a different armrest. Sungwoon and Jaehwan somehow found fitting spots amidst the feet of the couch occupants. Butter Nut and Bagel were going between different laps every few minutes.

 

The couch squad consisted of Seongwu, Daniel, and Jihoon, snuggled together with negative proximity between one another. The couch was designed to accommodate two people, but prioritising maximum efficiency was a virtue of stingy adult life.

 

Seongwu was the self-appointed PDA police. Simply said, his sense of bachelor justice, enhanced by the moderate amount of alcohol in his system, made him throw judgemental stares at the host couple any time something spicier than hand-holding occured between them. Daniel’s attempt at sharing a scone with Jihoon warranted a whole scandalised gasp. Supervision did not deter them in the slightest from exchanging as many cocoa-flavoured pecks as possible.

 

That entire seating arrangement was in favour of the annual winter tradition of talking smack about the same cheesy holiday-themed movies that most TV channels seemed to show every year. Every plot hole or cliche foreshadowing to come to attention was ruthlessly disarmed by nuanced opinions. Tipsy, but thorough. Jihoon insisted on being the master of the remote, so any attempts at changing the channel without his permission were met with profoundly displeased glares.

 

As Sungwoon was happily decapitating scones, he suddenly froze mid-bite to voice an epiphany. “Guys, isn’t it almost time?”

 

Several pairs of eyes darted towards the clock hammered above the TV. The final few seconds remaining before Christmas seemed to sober everyone up. "Ten, nine, eight…” Minhyun began, staring at his watch with utmost concentration.

 

“Five, four, three…” the entire ensemble picked up the countdown with excited shouts. Hands were flailing in elation and the cats calmly retreated to a quieter corner of the apartment. A faint ring resounded in the room once all clock hands met at midnight. The room erupted in joyful shrieks as smiles and hugs were exchanged. Regular insults were set aside in favour of latent sentimentalities and declarations of affection.

 

Daniel was a whole 180 centimeters of smiles and joy. Just as he was about to get off the couch to find the cats, however, he noticed something dangling in his peripheral vision. He looked over his shoulder to see Minhyun holding a strand of mistletoe above him and Jihoon with a smug smile. The rest of the guys were egging this entire scheme on from the side by chanting “Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!”

 

Daniel briefly contemplated throwing wine bottle corkscrews at everyone, until he heard the giggles escaping Jihoon’s lips. “Come on, it’s a tradition,” he said happily before cupping Daniel’s cheek with a hand. The last thing to cross Daniel’s mind before leaning in was the candid observation of how Jihoon’s smiles really complimented his eye shape. The soft meeting of lips underneath the cheap mistletoe was followed by deafening ovations.

 

“Get the wine! Get the Monopoly! It’s not Christmas before I make all you losers go bankrupt!” Seongwu instructed.

 

Minhyun did head for the alcohol cupboard in the kitchen, though not without throwing a stern glare at everyone. “I’ll be the one pouring because I trust none of you.”

 

“Guys, pick colours,” Sungwoon demanded as he fought the Monopoly box into opening. “That’s the last freedom of choice I’m giving you all before destroying your financial stability.”

 

“Kind of a shame the only thing we’re missing right now is a Christmas tree,” Jisung noted, still on the floor, “but screw it, this is a great night regardless.”

 

The words “Christmas tree” seemed to trigger some realisation in Jaehwan. He slapped his forehead in disbelief as he shouted, “That’s what I was about to mention five hours ago! Fuck!” He bolted outside the living room after giving life to that sentiment.

 

The rest remained still, staring with confusion at the door Jaehwan disappeared behind, trying to decipher what the clatter of his feet atop the floorboards could mean. The guessing game became a tad more difficult once the sound of something being dragged along the floor got added to the equation. As Jaehwan emerged back in the living room with a huge pine branch in tow, Daniel had to wonder just what the fuck had been going on inside his apartment while he had been gone.

 

Minhyun stood on the kitchen threshold, a wine bottle in his hand and an expression that couldn’t quite settle on a single emotion. “I have so many questions right now.”

 

“Let me start,” Jihoon chimed in from the couch. “ _How?_ Everything in Seoul was either sold out or expensive enough to buy us a whole forest.”

 

“That’s what the system wants you to think,” Jaehwan replied, tapping a pointer finger on his temple. “You know the huge tree in front of the City Hall? I don’t think they’ll notice one of the lower branches missing.” He started trudging inside the room. “Now help me stick this thing somewhere.”

 

Sungwoon looked positively smitten as he declared, “you’re a dumbass.” Everyone dropped what they had been doing, either to help with decorations or to ask more confusion-driven integral questions. Daniel, personally, felt like asking whether the idea of an artificial tree had occurred to literally nobody. More important matters awaited him, though. While the entire squad was distracted, he grabbed Jihoon by the sleeve of the tragic sweater and made a shushing motion before swiftly dragging him out of the living room.

 

The bedroom door clicked shut behind them. The sound of someone screeching _“that’s flammable, you asshat”_ could vaguely be heard in the distance, but the bedroom was still undoubtedly the most peaceful spot to be found in the apartment given the circumstances.

 

Taking the way Daniel was nervously fiddling with his fingers into consideration, it wasn’t too difficult to guess that words were blooming behind his lips. Jihoon took Daniel’s hands into his. “What’s on your mind, love?” he asked softly.

 

For a few moments, Daniel’s gaze was fixed on the way Jihoon’s small hands looked holding his own. He then raised his head to meet the doe eyes he had grown to love. A single smile wasn’t enough to fit all the affection Daniel felt at the moment, but he sure as hell tried, his eyes scrunching up cutely in the process. “You’re the mastermind behind all of this, aren’t you?”

 

“The one and only,” Jihoon replied. He threw in a wink as well, but the coy demeanor quickly dissolved into bashful chuckles. “I’m still sorry about your family. This probably isn’t enough, but I wanted to cheer you up, if only a little.”

 

“Are you kidding me?” Daniel let go of Jihoon’s hands, only to cup his face and lightly squish his cheeks. “This is the best thing anyone has ever done for me.” Daniel’s smile was threatening to cramp his jaw. “Besides, Busan won’t suddenly disappear. I called my mom and she said they’d be happy to let us dick around the house on New Years.” Daniel gently leaned forward until his forehead touched Jihoon’s. “Everything is just right.”

 

Jihoon wove his arms around Daniel’s waist and closed his eyes. They stood like that for a while, simply melting in each other’s embrace.

 

At some point, the clattering noises coming from the living room made Jihoon break the spell. “Shouldn’t we go check what’s happening?” he questioned. “We live here.”

 

“I’m not quite done with you,” Daniel replied. The fondness of his smile shifted to a tad more mischievous emotion. Jihoon tried to guess what the implications behind that statement were, but the cogwheels in his mind halted once Daniel sank to his knees in front of him. “I haven’t given you your Christmas present yet,” Daniel uttered with as much innocence as he could muster while reaching for Jihoon’s belt buckle.

 

Jihoon sputtered in disbelief. “While all our friends are in the other room?!” he tried summoning his best displeased expression and aiming it at Daniel with a glare. “Kang Daniel, you wouldn’t-”

 

Before that sentence could come to an end, Daniel briefly pointed upwards at the mistletoe print on Jihoon’s sweater. “Didn’t you say it was a tradition?” he said with a grin, his fingers already working on the zipper.

 

Jihoon released a shaky exhale. The battle was lost. He tangled his fingers in Daniel’s hair in resignation.

  


_December 25, 01:17AM_

 

“I can not believe this disrespect,” Seongwu uttered in disbelief as the last unoccupied train station on the board got sold. The last station he needed before completing his utter railway domination, his imperial dictatorship.

 

“Time is money, the world is tough, suck it up,” Sungwoon bestowed his wisdom while counting Monopoly bills with croupier-like precision.

 

Minhyun thoughfully swirled the orange juice in his wine glass. “Capitalism ruins bonds.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> This fic solidified the fact that I manage to write fluff much faster than anything else and has therefore cemented my fate as a human embodiment of a crusty cheese wheel.
> 
> I recently made a twitter! Feel free to yell at me [@shimramyun](https://twitter.com/shimramyun) . Lord knows I do actually need someone to very literally yell straight into my ear for me to finish all the other fics in my docs, jesus christ almighty.
> 
> Mighty shout out at my platonic and simultaneously flamingly homosexual soulmate [@pencanze](https://twitter.com/pencanze) who doesn't even stan w1, yet proof-read this entire diabetes diagnosis.
> 
> Once again, kind reminder to follow the [Starry Nights fic fest](https://twitter.com/nwstarrynights) official twitter to see all the other lovely entries~


End file.
